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“Then it’s my turn to teach you,” he says.
I join him, and we walk together to the front of the arcade where the pool table is. We don’t have to wait for it. A group of guys in athletic wear who had been using the table are finished, their cues stored in the rack. They’re still hanging out at a nearby table, arguing over something to do with football.
Nick puts a few coins into the slots and the balls drop. I lift one of the cues off the rack and test its weight in my hands. It feels awkward already. Brent had never wanted to play with me because I was so bad, and so I never got the chance to practice.
“Want to break?” Nick asks, collecting the balls in the plastic triangle thingy and adjusting them to the correct pattern.
“Are you asking because you want to laugh at me?” I reply suspiciously.
“Not at all!” he says in a tone that says yes, absolutely.
“Okay,” I say, walking up to the end of the table trying to look way more confident than I feel. “Let me show you how it’s done.” I take the cue ball out from beneath the table, place it in position, and try to aim, hoping that I at least hit the ball hard enough to send it down the felt.
But as it turns out, I don’t get the chance to.
A sharp voice suddenly barks over the music. “Hey! What’s the idea?”
I stop and turn to see one of the guys who had been using the table standing there with his hands on his hips. He’s wearing a white running shirt and looks like an asshole. My heart immediately sinks.
Nick is by my side in a flash, standing between me and the Asshole. His posture is ramrod straight, his face utterly devoid of humor. “Do you want something?” he asks calmly, the slightest hint of menace in his voice.
“I should be asking you the same question, champ,” he says. “That’s our table.”
Nick doesn’t blink. “You weren’t using it.”
“Uh, yeah, we were.” The Asshole looks back at his friends and they voice a scattering of agreements. “See?” he says, turning back to us.
I try to exchange a disbelieving look with Nick, but he’s staring at the Asshole like he wants to rip his head off. I’m actually surprised the guy isn’t taking a step back because Nick’s glare is terrifying. But even if the Asshole realizes he’s trying to mess with the wrong people, it’s clear he feels safe with his side’s superior numbers. There are four of them — all fit guys in their mid-twenties — though none are as tall as Nick.
“Well we already put money in the table,” I say. “So you’re just going to have to wait your turn.”
The Asshole scoffs but barely looks at me, focusing instead on Nick. “Got your girl talking for you now?”
“She’s not wrong,” Nick replies. “We already paid.”
There’s a strange lilt to Nick’s voice, one that makes me glance at him again in surprise. His expression only confuses me more. Where just moments ago he’d looked homicidal, now Nick sounds put out. Maybe even a little nervous?
The Asshole sees the change too and, sensing weakness, his demeanor becomes even more aggressive. He pretends to consider and then says, “All right. We’ll play you for it.”
I start to speak but Nick does at the exact same time. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” Again that weird tone. It’s not commanding or assertive at all. I can hardly believe it. I’ve never seen this side of him before.
The Asshole raises his eyebrows. “Why? You scared we’re gonna kick your ass?”
“No!” Nick insists, and even I don’t believe him. “I just don’t see why I should play you when I could just as easily play my friend here and enjoy it a hell of a lot more.”
“Hear that guys?” the Asshole says. “Dude knows he’s screwed. He’s gotta play his girl in order to feel good about himself.”
What had started as confusing and quickly grown frustrating is now a full declaration of war. I don’t know what Nick’s angle is here and why he’s acting so weird, but I’m not going to let this douchebag push us around.
“You know what?” I say. “He will play you and you won’t be talking so tough when he wipes the board with you.”
“Evie…” Nick starts.
“Yeah Evie,” the Asshole says mockingly. “Don’t get your boyfriend into trouble he can’t get out of.” He smirks. “Now what are the stakes?”
“We don’t have to play for anything,” Nick says quickly.
“No, no,” the Asshole says. “We gotta have stakes. Otherwise what’s the point?”
